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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24132706">QT Interval</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon'>RetroactiveCon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Praying That It'll Be You [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Flash (TV 2014)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Heartbeats, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:02:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,135</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24132706</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Please.” It’s just a whisper; he doesn’t want to risk overpowering the thud of Barry’s heart. “Just for a minute, let me listen to your heart. It’s the first good sound I’ve heard in hours.” </em>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barry Allen/Hartley Rathaway</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Praying That It'll Be You [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>QT Interval</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warren_Pace/gifts">Warren_Pace</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Warren_Pace, who asked for more of Hartley's fascination with Barry's heartbeat.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hartley arrives home with a throbbing headache. The click of the door feels like spikes through his ears even though he shuts it as quietly as he can. Barry’s cheerful “Hey Hart!” sends pain racing through his skin. </p><p>“Don’t do that,” he begs. “My hearing is…ow.” </p><p>“I’m sorry.” Barry drops his voice to a whisper. There’s the faint crackle of lightning; then Hartley is enveloped in a warm, steadying embrace. He melts into Barry’s arms, burrows his head into the crook of his neck, and almost starts to cry with relief at the steady sound of his heartbeat. “Hart, hey, what is it?”</p><p>“Please.” It’s just a whisper; he doesn’t want to risk overpowering the thud of Barry’s heart. “Just for a minute, let me listen to your heart. It’s the first good sound I’ve heard in hours.” </p><p>Barry presses his lips to the top of Hartley’s head. He knows better than to make kissing noises when Hartley’s enhanced hearing overwhelms him; it’s just silent, warm pressure. One of his hands flattens between Hartley’s shoulders to hold him steady. Slowly, Barry walks them backwards until they’re able to sit on the sofa. </p><p>“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. </p><p>Hartley nods feverishly. He can hear everything—the snap of Barry’s valves, the rush of his breath, the shift of the fabric of his shirt every time they move. It’s Barry’s heartbeat that he focuses on: fast, regular, loud. He could count the beats, but by the time he remembers he could, he’s too lost in the rhythm to bother. It’s steady. Calming. And Barry is so warm…</p><p>“Better?” Barry’s fingers run through his hair. He’s able to focus on the calming-sweet pressure rather than the slip-sliding rustle of strands of hair rubbing against each other. That’s an improvement from a few minutes ago, when the unbearable noise made every movement hurt.</p><p>“Infinitely.” He burrows closer to Barry’s chest. Sometime in the last few minutes, he relaxed; every muscle feels languid and warm as though he’s just woken up. It would be easy to close his eyes and let Barry’s heartbeat lull him to sleep, but he doesn’t want that. </p><p>“You were starting to doze off.” Barry gives him a lingering kiss. “I figured you were probably doing okay.”</p><p>“Doze off?” Hartley considers sitting up to check the time, but he has no idea what time it was when he walked in the door. “Was I listening that long?” </p><p>Barry chuckles. It rumbles through his chest in a way that makes Hartley smile. “It’s been more than half an hour. You know it’s cute that my heartbeat gets you almost as deep as the flute gets me? You’re sweet when you’re on my chest, just drifting.” </p><p>There was a time when this concept would have terrified him. Now, he trusts Barry enough to feel unquestionably safe and protected. “You know,” he murmurs, “I’ve read that in some cases with sound sensitivity, familiarity breeds contempt—the more someone hears a sound, the more their mind becomes attuned to it and marks it as unpleasant. Not every case, certainly, but enough times to be a problem. But with you…” He hums and curls his fingers in the soft fabric of Barry’s shirt. “The more I hear your heartbeat, the more soothing it becomes.” </p><p>“Maybe being cuddled helps.” Barry squeezes him. </p><p>Hartley nods. “Ask me later to tell you about BTBR mutations in mice and their effects on sensory processing - it has to do with touch and sound. Fascinating study, but…” He yawns. It’s mostly for show, although he’s so warm and content that sleep feels imminent. “I’m too tired to do it justice.” </p><p>Barry rocks him playfully side to side. “You’re getting very sleepy,” he teases. “So, so sleepy…”</p><p>“You’re absurd.” Hartley emphasizes this with a roll of his eyes that Barry might not see but will certainly hear in his tone. “I’m not hypnotized, not like you get.”</p><p>“You’re just so focused on my heartbeat that you get drifty and lose focus on everything else.” He can hear Barry’s impish grin in the playful lilt of his voice. It’s impossible to resist leaning up and kissing him, so Hartley does. Barry hums into the kiss and nips at his lower lip. “Sounds a lot like when I go under for you.” </p><p>“Well, if you want to try to control me, you’re going to have to wait until I’m drifting again.” Fleetingly, fear lances through Hartley’s veins. He shakes it away and focuses more intently on Barry’s heartbeat. Barry won’t hurt him—he’s gone to such absurd lengths to prove that he values Hartley’s safety that he wouldn’t change now. “If I tell you it’s all right to make me do whatever you want, will you believe me?” </p><p>Barry shakes his head. “After the day you’ve had, the only thing I’m going to tell you to do is get comfortable and sleep. If I could keep you from getting nightmares like you do for me, that would be good, too.”</p><p>Hartley doesn't quite manage to stifle a sigh of relief. He’s had unpleasantly vivid nightmares for weeks, and while he’s gotten good at not waking up screaming, he wants a night where he manages to sleep without interruptions. “If you could do that, I’ll love you forever.”</p><p>“I thought you already did.” Barry infuses such obvious hurt into his voice that Hartley knows it’s a ploy. He can’t help falling for it anyway. </p><p>“I do, sweet boy. To the stars and back.” He presses a kiss to Barry’s chest over the point where his heartbeat is loudest. It’s alarmingly easy to focus again, to let the rhythm of his thoughts match the accelerated beat of Barry’s heart. </p><p>“Close your eyes.” The words are the barest whisper against the skin of his brow. Obediently, he lets his eyes fall closed. “Good. You’re so sweet for me, Hart, do you know that? You call me sweet and good, but you are too.”</p><p>Hartley can only manage a soft, happy sound. He’s far too content to protest (though he probably should) and too sleepy to have the energy to blush. </p><p>“You’re not going to have nightmares,” Barry coaxes. “Instead, I want you to imagine having another lazy day, just the two of us. This time maybe it’ll be your turn to sing and make breakfast, and maybe I’ll cuddle you a little bit while you do…”</p><p>As Barry must have planned, his rambling story of what they could do during another lazy day forms a mental image that unfolds like a movie—like a dream—in Hartley’s mind. Presently, he loses the thread of Barry’s story and just drifts, half-aware of his voice but not of his words. By the time he’s properly asleep, he’s already deep in a safe, meandering dream.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For anyone who's into neurobiology, <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4177076/">here's</a> the link to the study Hartley references. BTBR mutant mice are actually used as a model of autism, so it's not directly linked to Hartley's enhanced hearing, but he's a nerd about autistic things because of Jerrie, and the hyperreactivity to sound but touch as a soothing thing seemed applicable.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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